Hi all,

Finister has very kindly given me permission to post this story which features the characters and setting from his Pink Pussycat comics. I hope that you all enjoy the tale.

Finister, I would be delighted to accept your offer of a render to illustrate the story. I'm looking forward to seeing the Pussycat resurface in your forthcoming Black Hat issue.

Stephen



Introduction

“Ooh, tighter please. I can take it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Mmm. I’ll be fine, silly. We want the experience to be as realistic as possible, don’t we?”

The costumed heroine known as the Pink Pussycat purred happily as the ropes around her dainty wrists were pulled and knotted more securely. Her wide blue eyes gazed adoringly at her black-clad ‘captor’, the handsome hunk called Adonis. The beautiful girl wriggled her slender body, licking her slightly parted lips and wondering what wicked thoughts might be running through his mind.

They were in the brand new home for the city’s latest crime-fighting initiative. The mayor had set up the Metrobay Allied Investigators’ Dedicated Enforcement Network to help pool the resources of the various heroes and heroines fighting the good fight against the local roster of depraved villains. This purpose built location, MAIDEN HQ, was a solid concrete edifice on the outskirts of Metrobay. No expense had been spared to equip the facility with state of the art training halls, sophisticated science labs, comfortable dormitories, fully networked crime computers and the very latest in hi-tech security systems. Although these headquarters wouldn’t be declared officially open for another week, the Pink Pussycat had persuaded the mayor to allow her early access for her own latest initiative.

It was no secret that the city’s favourite heroine had a terrible crush on her brave male ally. Perhaps the only person unaware of the depth of her feelings was the object of those desires; Adonis himself. Shared dangers had, of course, created a certain bond of intimacy. They had flirted openly and even gone on a few wonderfully romantic dates, but so far Adonis had made no further advances. Gentlemanly manners were all well and good, but sometimes a girl wanted more. The Pussycat would have been far too embarrassed to express her growing needs openly, but she wasn’t above engineering events to encourage her hesitant lover.

The crafty girl had invited Adonis on a private tour to explore the new building, followed by a late supper to serve as a house warming for the dormitory apartments. With the help of her young sidekick, Kitten, the Pussycat had spent the afternoon preparing for seduction. The grace of a woman’s touch had transformed one spartan bedroom into an intimate boudoir. Scented candles had been strategically placed to provide soft illumination and a relaxing, heady fragrance. Delicate drapes of red silk had been hung over the bare walls to give an atmosphere of warmth and cosiness. Smooth, soft sheets and deep feathered pillows had been spread invitingly on the wide bed, covered with a final scattering of pink rose petals.

All had gone well when Kitten departed and Adonis arrived. He was dressed in his customary black combat suit. The sight of his thick, dark hair and masculine stubble had set the Pussycat’s heart fluttering at once. The pair had walked hand in hand through the spacious corridors, admiring the new equipment and commenting on the mayor’s hopes for MAIDEN. The Pussycat had been delighted by Adonis’ surprised reaction when she led him into her chosen love nest. Together they had enjoyed a sumptuous picnic of smoked salmon and champagne (the preferred food of every hungry kitty-cat), while talking softly and exchanging secret, tender smiles. Normally at this point they would kiss and cuddle for a while before Adonis politely said a fond good-night and left the poor Pussycat hot, flustered and frustratingly unfulfilled. Tonight she had been determined to try a different approach.

When she had guessed that the fragrant candles and expensive champagne had sufficiently weakened Adonis’ inhibitions, the heroine took a deep breath and began to execute her plan, starting by subtly guiding the conversation, “Do you think that you’ll make much use of the training facilities downstairs?”

Adonis had nodded enthusiastically, “Oh, yes. The gym and combat simulator look amazing. What about you?”

“I’m not sure.” The Pink Pussycat had bitten her lip and looked away shyly before hesitantly continuing, “To tell the truth, the main weakness in my training regime concerns the whole area of escape techniques. I can’t tell you how many times a villain has gotten away because I have been helpless tied up.”

“Yes, I can certainly see where that would be a problem.” Adonis had gulped as his imagination painted a vivid picture of this amazing woman bound up in strict ropes.

Pussycat had suddenly looked up with bright eyes, smiling excitedly as though a brilliant idea had just come to mind, “I know! You could help me practice by tying me up and seeing how long it takes me to get loose.”

“I ... I suppose I could. If you think it’s a good idea.”

“Oh, I do, I do. Wait here, I think I saw a box of old rope stored somewhere.” With a grin of sheer glee, the scheming minx had scampered to retrieve the ropes that she had conveniently brought along for just this occasion. She was prepared to bet that Adonis would be helpless to resist her womanly charms once she was tied to the soft bed and squirming enticingly before him.

Before long the hero’s strong fingers were finishing the work of securing the strands of rope which now locked the Pussycat’s crossed wrists and anchored them to the metal rails of the bed’s headrest. The damsel had judged her man well. Already he was breathing more rapidly, his eyes roving over her provocatively displayed form.

The heroine was named for her chosen costume, a colourful ensemble that was both thoroughly feminine and imminently practical. Her curvy torso was hugged by a bright pink leotard which was fitted to cling to her trim waist and exquisitely rounded breasts. The lycra-like material may have looked flimsy, but its woven threads were fashioned from an advanced fabric resistant to the rigours of a crime-fighter’s escapades. It also happened to feel wonderfully cool and sensuous against the heroine’s flawless skin. A cute tail dangled from above her pert little bottom. Although it had only really been intended for aesthetic purposes, complimenting the rest of her image, the Pussycat had noticed that the tail’s twitching motions often acted to distract her male foes during critical moments of confrontation.

Long pink gloves of the same fabric covered her arms from fingertips to well past the elbows. The marvellous material served to protect her hands without reducing the heroine’s sensitivity to touch. Even now she could feel the coarseness of the rope where it indented the gloves and firmly encircled her wrists. Below the waist, the gloves were matched by smooth, pink stockings which stretched half-way up the young woman’s thighs. They seemed to meld to her legs as a second skin, but the soles were padded with a thick layer of rippled rubber. These ‘paws’ allowed the adventuress to prowl the city’s rooftops with sure-footed agility and to silently stalk her enemies with feline stealth.

The eyes which looked up at Adonis with such wanton desire were surrounded by a mask of the softest pink leather. The eternal contradiction of any heroine’s mask was that it could simultaneously conceal her true identity while emphasising the beauty of wide feminine eyes, delicate cheekbones and lusciously curved lips. A snug choker-collar and a pair of adorable kitten-ears completed the Pussycat’s outfit. The ears protruded prettily from the girl’s long locks of silky, blonde hair. The overall combination could have found a home in either a lingerie fashion show or a fetish nightclub; the result was undeniably stunning.

Pink Pussycat flexed her arms to test the bonds on her wrists. The length of thin, white rope had been wrapped in six neat parallel turns which were then cinched tight by two more turns at ninety degrees. Her arms had been raised, brushing back long strands of hair, until her hands were positioned above the heroine’s head, held some nine inches above the surface of the bed. The trailing ends of her wrist bonds had been wound to the middle bar of the headrest and knotted very efficiently. The ropes prevented the willing captive from lowering her arms to shield her body and the slightly elevated position put a slight strain on the muscles of her shoulders and upper arms.

The girl sighed happily and stretched languorously to provide Adonis with an unobstructed view of her body’s many appealing features. She bent her left knee to slowly run one stockinged foot along the length of the opposite leg, the action showing off supple calves and thighs and drawing attention to the hidden treasures of her crotch.

“That’s a very good start, darling,” she purred, “But I can see that there is still some rope left. How do you plan to use it?”

Adonis stood mesmerised. Maybe it was the alcohol or the romantic atmosphere, but for some reason he had never found this woman more attractive. Hot blood was pumping through his veins and he wasn’t at all sure that a hero should be entertaining some of his current lustful thoughts. This brave young girl was trying to improve her crime-fighting skills and all that he could think about was running his hands over her soft, toned flesh.

“Maybe you should tie my legs,” prompted the Pussycat, pleased by the obvious impact she was making.

With a supreme effort, Adonis blinked away his erotic fantasies and picked up two more coils of rope. He moved to the foot of the bed and carefully started to wind one of the ropes around a shapely ankle. Four snug bands gripped the ankle and pulled it out to the corner of the bed. The rest of the coil was passed around the bed post and tied off. When the last of the ropes were used to mirror the bonds, the heroine’s legs were stretched down the bed and spread wide apart.

“Oh, Adonis,” the Pussycat moaned softly and threw back her head, “I feel so wonderfully helpless. Imagine what a villain could do with me now. Imagine what you could do ...”

It was all too much for the poor man. He climbed onto the bed beside the beautiful, bound body. His hands gently stroked her legs above the top of the pink leggings, tenderly caressing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He leant in and his lips began to kiss the heroine’s exposed throat. The Pussycat was in heaven. She could feel her lover’s rough, manly stubble; a delicious contrast to the warm moistness of his lips and tongue. She gasped in delight when one roaming hand drifted up her thigh, over her hungry ‘little kitty’, along her tense stomach muscles, until finally coming to rest, cupping her heaving breast through the pink, clinging fabric of her costume.

Adonis raised himself so that he could look down at the girl’s face. She smiled back at him and their eyes met with a gaze of heartfelt affection. But then Adonis frowned and shook his head, “This isn’t right. Something is wrong.”

“No,” wailed the Pussycat. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything feels perfect. Please, don’t stop.”

Adonis continued to frown, “But with your enhanced strength you could easily snap these ropes. A real villain would have removed your kitty-collar long before now.” The frown turned into a sly grin, “Maybe I should do the same?”

The Pussycat felt herself shiver nervously as fingers picked at the lock of her collar. It was the precious object which empowered her heightened agility and superior strength. Without it she really would be defenceless. She truly would become a bound prisoner, a victim of her own seductive ploys.

Sensing some of her apprehension, Adonis bent his head to nibble at the Pussycat’s tender ear and whispered huskily, “You look so lovely. You trust me, don’t you? I would never hurt you.”

“I know.” The girl replied in a soft, trembling voice. Again she flexed her limbs to test her bonds. Now with limited human strength, she realised how securely she had been restrained. There was absolutely no way for her to escape. She was helplessly spread and completely vulnerable to this magnificent man’s desires. The intoxicating sensations of bondage and peril combined with her existing sexual arousal to leave the Pussycat dizzy and breathless.

Her lips were crushed as Adonis’ mouth seized hers in a fierce and passionate kiss. Her tongue darted out, searching for his and savouring the lingering taste of the champagne they had drank. His hands had returned to her breasts. The hero had finally realised that he was with a consenting captive who was enjoying her predicament every bit as much as him. All guilty doubts were forgotten as he abandoned himself to their joint lusts. He practically ripped the bodice of the Pussycat’s costume when he tore it down with a harsh tug. Her firm, creamy-white breasts were released and he revelled in their full glory. His hands fondled and squeezed at the soft flesh, his fingers rolling across her already erect nipples.

The Pink Pussycat was barely capable of rational thought. Her entire body felt alive with sexual energy, burning with an unquenchable need for this handsome stallion of her dreams. His hands and lips seemed to be everywhere, igniting the flames of desire with their every touch. His body was lying across hers. The rough texture of his black combat suit scraped against her nakedness. She could feel the huge growth bulging between his legs, his heavy weight pushing it against her grinding pelvis. She thrust her body into his as much as the tight ropes would allow.

“Make love to me,” she begged. “Take me now, Adonis. Please, take me now.”





Chapter One

The Pink Pussycat lay back on the soft, silky sheets and tugged at the tight ropes binding her wrists and ankles. The sensation of their unyielding grip spurred her on to even greater heights of ecstasy. She moaned as she thrust her crotch upwards and rubbed against the stiff erection, ill-concealed by Adonis' tight-fitting pants.

"Oh, god, Adonis. Please, make love to me. I need you inside me."

"Yes, my love." Adonis' own voice was ragged with passion, "I need you too."

He unzipped his heavy combat jacket and threw it carelessly into a corner of the room. Straddling the heroine's bound body, he lowered his head to suck at her engorged nipples. His skilful tongue flicked at first the left and then the right breast, while his hands peeled down the remains of her pink, lycra leotard. Soon the garment hung level with the tops of her high stockings, exposing the neat tufts of the Pussycat's little kitty. Her nether lips were already swollen and parted, glistening with her eager juices. When her lover's fingertips gently scraped the delicate opening, the heroine's whole body convulsed, jerking within her bonds as she shook with a wave of pre-orgasmic tremors.

Adonis reached towards his belt, preparing to remove his pants so that their bodies could finally join in intimate union. "I'm coming, my love," he whispered. He couldn't believe that he had denied himself this moment for so long.

"Warning. Unknown persons attempting access to MAIDEN HQ. Warning. Unknown persons attempting access to MAIDEN HQ ..."

A synthesised female voice rudely interrupted proceedings. Adonis turned to look over his shoulder. The automated alert was coming from the security control room at the end of the corridor. He started to climb off the bed, refastening his zip and belt, "Who could that be? These headquarters are meant to be a secret until next week's opening."

The Pink Pussycat couldn't believe that this was happening. A few more minutes and she would finally have experienced her hero's thick cock and the delights of his strong body. She strained forward, but with her wrists crossed and bound above her head, she could do nothing to reach him. "Don't go," she pleaded, "I'm sure the building's quite safe. Come back to me."

"I'll just check it out. Probably a false alarm." Adonis winked from the dormitory's doorway and smiled back, "I'll be back soon. Don't go anywhere."

Very funny, fumed the thwarted damsel. With her power collar removed and tight ropes tying her to the bed, she didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. She felt so incredibly horny and couldn't do a single thing about it. Her fluttering fingers were tied well away from her pleasure regions and, lying on her back with her legs spread wide, she couldn't even reach a surface to rub against, denied even the option of generating some small relief from friction. She could only listen to her lover's retreating footsteps and yearn for his quick return.

When he reached the control room, Adonis shut off the audible alarm and searched for its cause. A small security monitor showed a grainy picture from one of the many cameras positioned around the headquarters’ perimeter. The image revealed a tall woman examining the electronic keypad beside the building’s main entrance. She wore a skin-tight catsuit of black leather with white highlights. The black and white motif was echoed in her high boots, wrist gauntlets, low-slung belt and flowing cape. Even though her face was partially concealed by a narrow mask, it was easy for Adonis to identify the distinctive appearance.

He called back towards the Pussycat’s room, “It’s Nightengale. She must have decided to give this place an early inspection as well. It looks like she’s having trouble with the access pad. I’ll go down and lend her a hand.”

Great timing, Nightengale. The Pussycat could only wait with growing impatience as Adonis headed downstairs to the entrance. She trusted that he would have the wits not to reveal her embarrassing situation. While there was no doubt that Nightengale fought on the side of the angels, she and the Pink Pussycat had never been particularly close. The Pussycat had always considered herself to be a paragon of virtue, whereas Nightengale’s methods were sometimes a little more dubious. She had too many secrets for the Pussycat’s liking and an almost uncanny insight into the operations of ROPE, the city’s most dangerous crime organisation. Interrupting her fun with Adonis was another black mark.

Muffled words drifted up from below, but they were too faint to make out clearly. Pussycat sighed and made another pointless attempt to break the ropes holding her fast. Bondage could get pretty dull without a playmate, she ruefully decided. The heroine was drifting towards boredom when a sudden crash brought her rapidly back to full alertness.

“Adonis? What’s going on?”

Another series of crashes and thuds echoed from the vicinity of the entrance, punctuated by low grunts and groans. The Pussycat’s struggles immediately become more frantic. What was happening down there? She called Adonis’ name again as she twisted and pulled, working herself into a panic but coming no closer to freedom. So intense were her struggles that she could feel the rope starting to chaff her wrists even through her long gloves. Her body had been stretched so taut that she had little leverage in which to move. Her spread legs gave tiny little kicks that lacked any real power. She tried rolling from side to side, but again found no leeway. If anything, her desperate movements were only yanking the knots tighter.

Realising the futility of her efforts, the young woman for--d herself to lie still. She focused on her sense of hearing as she tried to let her nerves grow calm. The loud thuds had stopped. They had been replaced with a number of softer sounds as three, maybe four, people moved around. Some of the noises were coming from this level. The Pussycat held her breath and resisted her rising anxiety. She heard a female voice give instructions, still too soft to understand, and then slow, pacing footsteps clacking along the dormitory corridor. A dark shadow soon fell across the helpless Pussycat’s practically naked body. The silhouette of a caped and costumed figure stood outlined by the doorway.

“Nightengale? Is that you?” It certainly looked like Nightengale’s costume, but there was something wrong, some nagging doubt that the Pussycat couldn’t quite identify.

The figure in the doorway gave a low, sultry laugh, “Well, well, well. What a lovely surprise. My favourite little pussycat already packaged and ready to take home.”

The woman stepped into the room and now the Pink Pussycat could clearly recognise her. The callous laughter, the tightly drawn back hair, the cruel smile and the cold eyes. It could be only one person.

“Madame Mynx!” Vulnerable as she was, the Pussycat couldn’t keep the outraged anger from her voice. “Where is Adonis? Why are you wearing Nightengale’s costume?”

“Do you like it?” Madame Mynx gave a slow spin before kneeling to stroke the defiant heroine’s cheek, “I thought that it would make the perfect disguise for breaking into this wonderful new facility. Trust me, Nightengale will have no need for clothing in her new life. As for Adonis? Don’t worry, my pet, we haven’t hurt him too badly. You’ll be reunited soon.”

The spiteful villainess laughed again, causing the Pussycat to shudder in loathing. What dastardly plan was being enacted? What had happened to Adonis? Where was the real Nightengale? These and countless other questions raced through her mind as Mynx returned to the corridor and summoned her henchmen. After such as perfect start, this house warming had turned very sour.



The answers to some of the Pussycat’s questions could be found on the other side of the city. It had begun as a normal evening’s patrol for Nightengale. Lady Payback had learned that ROPE were planning the purchase of an old steel-processing plant on the edge of the run-down industrial quarter. She didn’t know how the criminals intended to use the place, but Nightengale figured that it would be worthwhile to familiarise herself with the plant’s layout. She had taken note of the rent-a-cop security guards tending the locked gates and the two cars loitering conspicuously in a nearby alley, but nothing raised immediate concerns. Satisfied with her initial reconnaissance, Nightengale had headed back to the heart of the city and her customary circuit encompassing the seedier bars and brothels. That was when the trouble had started.

A frightened cry for help had caught her attention. She had swung onto a low rooftop and looked down to see a pair of female legs disappearing through the rear doors of a blacked-out van. Two burly thugs were shoving a young woman inside and pushing the doors closed. Recognising an abduction in progress, the caped crime-fighter hadn’t wasted a second. She had leapt from the roof, landing nimbly on her feet, ready to confront the two creeps. The ensuing fight had been predictably short. The goons may have had brawn on their side, but Nightengale excelled in combat and knew where to land punches that could really do damage. Her opponents were on the ground before she had even broken a sweat.

Faint sobs and pleas had continued to sound from within the van. Still exhilarating in her victory, Nightengale had thrown the doors open, expecting to find a distressed maiden in need of comfort and reassurance. To her astonishment, she had instead found herself face to face with a masked woman dressed from head to toe in shining red PVC. Before Nightengale could react, an aerosol can had been produced and used to spray choking gas into her nose and mouth. The dismayed heroine had fallen unconscious to the sound of shrill, mocking laughter; realising too late that she had stumbled into a trap.

The captured young woman had no idea how much time had passed during her enforced slumber. Vague memories of the ambush had plagued her dreams, mixing with fearful images from previous defeats. She awoke gradually, the nightmares leaving her bathed in a cold sweat of fear. Groggy awareness began to return slowly. The heroine groaned and shivered in discomfort, finding her limbs heavy and unwilling to respond to her feeble attempts at movement. Her head still felt terribly fuzzy, her thoughts coming in a muddle and only with great effort. Thus, it took several long minutes before she fully comprehended the extent of her current plight.

She was kneeling on a rough stone floor, resting on her knees with her legs drawn back. Wide bands of leather had been placed around her ankles and tightly buckled. Each of these padded cuffs were attached to the ends of a sturdy metal bar. This left Nightengale with no option but to keep her legs spread about four feet apart, unable to draw her legs closed while the metal bar pushed them open. Her wrists were also held in buckled cuffs. Three small links of chain fastened the cuffs together and had been used to hang them over a hook dangling from the ceiling. While she had been unconscious, the weight of her body had hung from her bound wrists. However long that had been, it had left her with aching shoulders and numb, lifeless hands.

Most disturbingly of all, the captured girl discovered that she was almost completely naked. Cold air raised goosebumps on her exposed skin. A pair of white cotton ankle socks, the skimpiest pair of black panties and her white eye-mask were her only remaining garments. Her catsuit, boots, gauntlets and cape were all gone, along with the many hidden tools and gadgets they carried. Those tools probably represented her best chance of escape. Without them she could be in very real trouble.

Nightengale’s head was slumped forwards, her thick black hair falling across her vision in an untidy cascade. With a long moan, she for--d herself fully awake, shaking her hair back into place and weakly raising her head to study her surroundings. Unfortunately there wasn’t much for her to see. The grey stone of the floor stretched off in all directions to meet walls of dull, crumbling plaster. The walls rose to a sloped roof supported by a criss-cross of metal girders. She guessed that she was being held in a warehouse of some kind. Most of the room was hidden in shadowy darkness, a few selected areas flooded with a harsh glare from spotlights high in the roof. No windows were visible and a narrow staircase led to the only apparent exit from this bleak prison.

“So, my little birdie is awake at last. How wonderful!”

Nightengale jumped at the sound of the female voice. She hadn’t realised that anybody else was in the room. The words came from directly behind. No matter how far she craned her neck, the speaker remained elusively out of sight; the awkward position of Nightengale’s restrained legs preventing her from turning fully.

The gloating speech continued, voice and footsteps gradually edging closer, “Thank-you for trying to rescue me earlier. Very courageous, but ultimately very stupid. Such an easy trick to set up. My boys were most displeased by the beating they had to take, but I’ve promised them that they can make it up to you later; one way or another.”

Long fingers tickled along Nightengale’s neck and shoulders as the speaker finally stepped before her kneeling victim. The chained heroine pulled away and glared up at her captor. The woman certainly made an impressive sight. Her tight trousers, zipped jacket, knee-length boots and short gloves were all cut from the same red PVC. The material had been polished and buffed until it shone, gleaming under the spotlight’s bright focus. The slim woman stood with her hands upon her hips, head held proudly high and her breasts thrust forwards. Her blonde hair hung in short bangs, cut in a severe fashion that ended in sharp points level with the line of her stern jaw. The gaze that looked through the red eye-mask was filled with malevolent mirth, a sadistic amusement at Nightengale’s ordeal.

“I might have known it was you.” Nightengale’s lips curled in disgust, “Trixtress. This time I’ll see you put behind bars.”

Trixtress’ shrill laughter echoed eerily in the cavernous warehouse, “I don’t think so. In fact, when my new partner returns, you will be the one to face a life of imprisonment. Or should I say ‘slavery’? ROPE will pay dearly for a slutty damsel like you.”

“Your new partner?”

“Madame Mynx. Right about now she should be putting an end to any hopes that the mayor had planned for her so called MAIDEN HQ.” Trixtress gave a dismissive shrug, “But she won't be back for some time. Meanwhile, you and I can have some fun playing with my bag of tricks. Let’s start by making you a little less comfortable.”

Her hips swinging confidently, Trixtress marched with long strides to the concealment of shadows at one side of the room. Nightengale again lost sight of her in the darkness and could only struggle impotently with her leather cuffs. There was a noisy clang of a heavy lever being pulled, followed by the mechanical whir of a winch kicking into gear.

The dangling hook slowly rose into the air, hoisting the captive’s cuffed wrists. Nightengale’s arms were pulled aloft, putting even greater strain on muscles that were already sore. The poor heroine couldn’t prevent a small cry of pain from escaping as her body protested against the unfair abuse. The hook rose higher and higher. Nightengale was dragged off her knees, staggering awkwardly on her forcibly spread legs. Soon she was stretched to her full height. Her whole body was now suspended from her wrists, her arms and shoulders visibly trembling. Her dangling torso swayed slightly, her elevated shoulders giving greater definition to the tense muscles of her stomach and ribcage. Her feet were barely in contact with the floor, only the pointed toes of her socks lending fragile support and balance.

“Let me down, you bitch. Release me at once.” Nightengale fought to get free, but the buckles on the thick bands of leather could not be loosened.

“Let you down? I don’t think so. You look quite delightful hanging there so helplessly vulnerable.” Trixtress walked back into the pool of light, holding a black bag decorated with a comical smiley face. “Shall we see what toys I can find in here?”

The taunting villainess rummaged through the bag. A wide grin spread across her face as her fingers found a familiar object. She pulled it from the bag and held it up for Nightengale to see; a short length of silver chain, the small links ending with two nasty looking clamps. “Nipple clamps! I simply adore these little devils. Why don’t you try them on?”

“Get your filthy hands off me.” Despite her objections, Nightengale was helpless to resist as her tormentor put the clamps in place. Sharp teeth bit into the heroine’s nipples, small screws used to fasten them cruelly tight. Nightengale winced at the sublime agony that shot through her breasts, an intense spike of pain that faded to a drawn out throb of torture. The silver chain hung between the clamps, its weight distending the victim’s poor nipples and dragging them downwards.

“It hurts! Take them off.” Beneath her mask, unwanted tears began to well at the sides of Nightengale’s eyes.

“Hush.” Trixtress ignored the heroine’s plaintive cry and placed a gloved finger over her quivering lips. “If you keep complaining then I’ll have to gag you and then I couldn’t do this ...”

She removed her finger and replaced it with her mouth. Hot lips joined Nightengale’s in a firm kiss. The villainess grabbed a handful of thick hair and thrust her probing tongue deep into the heroine’s mouth. Nightengale was in no position to resist and had to endure the long, humiliating assault.

“Isn’t that better?” Finally Trixtress needed to come up for air, breaking off the passionate kiss and lewdly licking her moist lips, “What’s next, I wonder?”

Fishing into the bag again, she came up with an object that caused Nightengale to shudder in revulsion. It was a long male phallus, the plastic dildo a full ten inches long and incredibly wide. Trixtress ran her tongue over the tip of the awful toy then lowered it to her crotch, holding it between her PVC-clad legs. She closed her eyes and blew out a soft, crooning sigh as she rubbed the dildo over the location of her covered cunt. After teasing herself for several long moments, she fixed her eyes upon her captive and switched the plastic shaft to Nightengale’s crotch. The villainess pressed the head of the artificial organ into the bound heroine’s panties, pushing it gently but firmly against her dampening pussy.

“Feels fantastic, doesn’t it?” Trixtress knelt and kissed the soft skin below Nightengale’s belly button, while she continued the slow massage with the dildo. The heroine’s stomach rose and fell as her breathing increased in response to the delicious sensations.

Nightengale bit her lip and hid her face against the inside of one suspended arm. It did feel good, but she would never make such an admission, especially not to this wicked harlot.

“But,” Trixtress abruptly withdrew the intimate toy, “I’m afraid you don’t deserve such a treat. First you have to earn your reward.”

“What do you mean?” Nightengale couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed by the premature removal of the dildo. A sexual heat was starting to build within her. Her exposed nakedness, her captor’s kisses, the erotic teasing of her pussy and even the unrelenting pinch on her nipples; all these things were combining to leave her in a state of confused arousal.

Trixtress had produced one more item from her bag of tricks. It was a long, narrow riding crop; a stiff two foot cane tipped by a firm leather fold. She gripped Nightengale’s chin and stared into her eyes. All her previous humour had vanished in an instant, her glare revealed only sadistic hatred. “Dirty little whores like you must learn to please their mistresses. I want to hear you scream, begging for my mercy. I’m going to cane your tender backside until the tears are streaming down your beautiful face. Maybe then, if you’re a good girl, I’ll shove that dildo into your tight little cunt. Until then its just you, me, this cane and a whole world of pain.”





Chapter Two

It was a trip of only a few miles, but for the Pink Pussycat the journey from MAIDEN HQ to her enemies’ latest hideout was an arduous and exhausting ordeal. Discovered in a compromising and most vulnerable condition by her sinister nemesis, Madame Mynx, the Pussycat had been unable to put up any sort of fight while Mynx’s henchmen untied her from the bed she had been hoping to share with Adonis, and made thorough preparations for her transport.

The ropes tied by her lover had seemed effective at the time, but they were nothing compared to the damsel’s new bondage. Rope had once again been used to bind her wrists, but this time they had been tied behind her back with the palms of her hands facing inwards. An additional layer of rope had been secured over the first ties and looped tightly around her waspish waist. This effectively trapped the heroine’s hands above her lovely buttocks, with the harsh strand of rope digging into her stomach and making breathing uncomfortable. Her elbows had also been bound. Rope drew them back until they almost touched and had been knotted so tightly that the poor girl worried her shoulders might be dislocated if she struggled too much.

Several rolls of sticky, black duct tape had then been used to bind the Pussycat’s long legs. She wouldn’t be scampering anywhere for the foreseeable future. The tape had been wrapped over her pink stockings at ankles, knees and thighs. Each set of restraints consisted of many overlapping layers so that her legs were virtually cocooned. The captive could scarcely bend her legs, never mind use them to walk or run. Evidently the tape had not been in short supply. Perhaps the villains received a discount for buying in bulk. Either way, more of the adhesive substance had been wound on top of the ropes tied at her wrists and elbows. Her arms had already been held immobile, but now the knots were buried beneath layers of tape; the girl would need to be cut out of these stringent bonds.

With Madame Mynx looking on with perverted enjoyment, the uncaring henchmen had finished a job started by Adonis, but with a far less romantic intent. A sharp knife had sliced through the heroine’s pink costume, stripping it away so that her beautiful body was naked from neck to thighs. Her gloves and stockings were still in place, but hardly visible between the multiple bands of black tape. A handful of the shredded costume had been prodded past the helpless prisoner’s lips. Pink Pussycat had tried to spit the material out, but three wide strips of duct tape had been quickly plastered over her soft lips, holding the unpleasant tasting wad in place. The gag had ensured that the young woman couldn’t complain about what came next.

With the Pussycat still lying on the bed, Madame Mynx had come across and sat astride her chest, gripping the heroine’s head between her thighs. Two small foam plugs had been produced, carefully rolled between the villainess’ fingers and then firmly inserted into the captive’s ears. Her world immediately fell silent, all noises muffled apart from the strangely amplified sound of her own pulse. Mynx had grinned evilly as she reached into a pocket and revealed the final instrument of the Pussycat’s bondage; a rubber hood. It had clearly been designed with only one victim in mind; the hood was bright pink in colour and had two small holes to accommodate the heroine’s kitten-ears. These were the only holes in the alarming garment. When it was slipped in place and securely laced, the girl’s head and mane of blonde hair were completely encased in rubber.

This was how the unfortunate heroine travelled; bound, gagged, deaf and blind. She had felt herself lifted from the bed by strong male arms and slung over somebody’s shoulder. Taken out of the building, she had been roughly dumped in the back of what she presumed was a van or truck of some kind. She could hear no engine and see no road, but from the bumping, rolling motion, the Pussycat knew that she was being driven through the night. The metal floor of the vehicle was cold and bruising. At one point they hit a particularly large bump and she was thrown against what must surely have been another body. She prayed that it was Adonis. The thought of him nearby gave her some small comfort, even if he was just as much a prisoner as her.

The distressed Pussycat needed all the comfort she could find. Her life of adventure had caused her to wear blindfolds before, but this rubber hood was a frightening new experience. Robbed of her two most important senses, sight and sound, she was left completely disoriented. Every breath was difficult. With the saliva-soaked cloth stuffing her mouth and the claustrophobic hood laced tightly, it took great effort to draw any air into her lungs. The strand of rope cutting into her guts and the bound arms wedged against her spine didn’t help matters. Beneath the hood her face was flushed and drenched in sweat. Mewing in misery, the poor girl began to weep, terrified that she might suffocate before this horrifying nightmare came to an end.

Her situation made it difficult to accurately judge the passage of time. Every second seemed to freeze into a slow eternity. In reality, the rolling motion came to a halt after a mere half hour. They had reached their destination. The Pussycat still lay helplessly on the floor of the van, continuing to sob and writhe in both mental and physical anguish. Her deafened ears gave no warning so the sudden grip of hands on her shoulders came as a sudden shock. The Pussycat screamed, but even she couldn’t hear the gagged shriek. The hands pulled her from the van and again tossed her over a man’s shoulder. She was carried and then set back on her feet, wobbling uncertainly on her taped legs.

A great weight seemed to fall away when the Pussycat felt fingers begin to undo the lacing of the hood. It took a while to unpick the thin laces, but the rubber was eventually peeled away. The Pussycat took a deep, grateful breath through her nose. She shook her head, dislodging the ears plugs and freeing the hair that clung to her sweat and tear-stained face. Whatever happened next, the heroine was certain that it couldn’t possibly be as bad as that awful journey.

“Look, Nightengale. Look who has decided to join us.”

With her distress under some measure of control, the Pink Pussycat looked up and belatedly took stock of her surroundings. Beside her, Adonis was restrained by two brutish thugs. Tape covered his mouth and his hands were bound behind his bare chest. Pussycat was relieved to see him in one piece and relatively unharmed. She couldn’t say the same about Nightengale. Her fellow crime-fighter was hanging in chains on the opposite side of the room, suspended from a hook lowered from the roof. She was slumped and barely conscious. Her naked body was decorated by a series of painful red welts. Quite obviously her time as a captive had included a bout of malicious and sadistic mistreatment.

One other figure stood between the three prisoners. Trixtress tapped a stiff riding crop against the top of her polished red boots. She gave Adonis an approving look of appraisal then stepped over to the Pink Pussycat, smiling ominously.

“Your timing is perfect. Nightengale and I were almost running out of things to do. I’m so glad that Madame Mynx sent you to join our little party. I can think of many more games for us all to play together.”



Back at MAIDEN HQ, Madame Mynx was supervising as her henchmen finished planting a series of devices around the new building. Painstaking care was taken to ensure that the small plastic boxes were safely arranged in the optimum configuration. Red LEDs flashed to confirm that each bobby trap was operating correctly, the criminals double-checking that the electronic timers were synchronised. They would never have another chance at this mission. Next week the building would commence full operation and from that point on it would probably be crawling with despised scum from Metrobay’s wretched cast of do-gooders.

As she had expected, the building had been woefully under-protected tonight. It had been all too easy to overwhelm that unsuspecting dolt, Adonis. Finding the Pink Pussycat had been a complete bonus. Mynx laughed ironically when she thought about the many hours she had wasted arranging elaborate death traps for the Pussycat, yet tonight the foolish heroine had trapped herself with absolutely no effort required by the villainess. The wicked vixen wanted to finish off their business here as quickly as possible so that she could return to her hideout for some ‘quality time’ with her prisoners. It wouldn’t be fair for Trixtress to have all the fun.

She had dispensed with the disguise provided by Nightengale’s stolen costume. Madame Mynx was now dressed in her own revealing outfit. A fishnet mesh of black nylon clung tightly to her arms and chest, doing little to conceal the full globes of her breasts. Matching fishnet stockings were worn below a pair of tight-fitting black boots, neat laces criss-crossing the front of her legs from ankles to thighs. Black leather gloves, a black choker and black eye-mask rounded off her appearance. Wearing the costume always made Mynx feel deliciously sexy. Her gloved hands had been unconsciously roaming across her partially exposed breasts while she fantasised about the plans she had for her captive sex-kitten.

A hesitant cough disturbed her fond daydream, “Uh, Mistress ...”

Mynx turned to glare at the embarrassed goon standing beside her. “Yes?” she snapped, “Are the explosives ready?”

“Almost, Mistress. But there’s something you should see on the security cameras. A young girl is approaching the building. From the tail and ears, it seems to be another member of the Pussycat crew.”

The villainess arched an intrigued eyebrow. She was still impatient to see the Pink Pussycat, but time could always be found if it meant the capture of another heroine.



It was amazing what one could accomplish with two small, padded stools, half a dozen iron floor-rings, a suspended hook and, most importantly, about eighty feet of white rope. It had taken well over thirty minutes for Trixtress to arrange the elaborate web which now restrained Nightengale and the Pink Pussycat. Two of her minions had assisted in the process. Much to their annoyance, they had been dismissed as soon as the final knot was tied. They were to be denied the final pleasure of participating in the culmination of Trixtress’ debauched humiliation of the captured heroines.

Nightengale was sitting on one of the stools, although ‘sitting’ was perhaps a wholly inadequate description of her precarious pose. Four cinched circles of rope tied her left ankle to her left thigh with similar bonds holding her right ankle drawn back to her right thigh. Her recently caned bottom rested on the red leather padding of the stool, with her ankles bound close on either side, lashed to the top of the stool’s front legs. Ropes had been secured to each bent knee and then pulled far out to the sides, the long trailing ends of these ropes tethered to solid iron rings set into the warehouse’s cold, stone floor. With her flimsy panties now removed, Nightengale’s vagina was exposed for all and sundry to freely inspect.

The heroine had been for--d to bend backwards so that her spine was arched over the stool. Her wrists were bound before her and then dragged up past her head and then even further back until they were anchored to an iron ring three feet behind the stool. A last strand of rope was braided into the glossy, black tresses of her hair, pulled taut beneath the stool and tied to a fourth heavy ring. All of this left the naked girl with her pussy facing forwards, her tits pointing to the roof and her head inverted so that she could only stare backwards. The abrasive ropes cut harshly into the poor captive’s smooth skin. Every loop was inescapably tight, every knot firmly tied.

The Pink Pussycat’s legs were similarly bent with ankles bound to thighs. However, she had been made to kneel on the dusty floor and bend forwards so that her stomach rested on the second stool with her head centred between Nightengale’s parted thighs. Ropes lashed the Pussycat’s spread legs to iron floor rings at her sides while the stool kept her hips and arse raised in the air. Both of the young woman’s lower openings were prominently exhibited and temptingly accessible; a fact of which she was very much aware.

Her gloved wrists had been crossed and tied behind her back. Two ropes, one tied to those bound wrists and the other plaited through her long, blonde hair, rose to the roof where they had been threaded over the dangling hook before returning to be tied off to a ring behind the Pussycat. With her fine breasts spilling over the end of the stool, the Pussycat’s arms were pulled high and her neck held rigid so that she could only stare directly forwards, straight into Nightengale’s gaping cunt.

Trixtress watched with unabashed admiration as the two damsels strained against their bonds, groaning softly at the pressures exerted by the strong rope. The villainess was casually leaning with her head resting on Adonis’ chiselled chest muscles. The handsome hero was also tied, although less artistic effort had gone into his restraints. Simple use of rope tied his hands behind his back, pinned his broad arms to his sides and held his torso against a thick wooden post. He had watched in dismay as the girls were subjected to their thorough bondage, but his protests had only earned a vicious punch to the guts which left him winded and speechless.

“Don’t they look simply divine?” cooed Trixtress, running her gloved fingers through Adonis’ dark chest hair. “The pussy cat seems ready to gobble up her little birdie friend. Let’s see if we can help them to entertain themselves.”

Picking up her bag of tricks, the red-clad tormentor strutted across to the Pink Pussycat’s elevated bottom. She sucked one of her fingers then ran it around the ring of the heroine’s undefended anus.

“How dare you!” The Pussycat cried in indignation, squirming as far as she could, which really wasn’t very far at all.

“Hush now,” scolded Trixtress. “My, you’re quite tight down here, aren’t you? Prefer to use the cat flap on the front door, do we? Not to worry, my little gift for you is nicely lubricated. I’m sure we’ll squeeze it in.”

The villainess reached into her bag and pulled out an item which, at its most basic, was a simple leather bikini thong. Two crucial additions had been made. A six inch dildo was fixed inside the front of the thong’s crotch strap. A shorter and slightly slimmer phallus was attached a little further back. The crude protrusions were slick with a greasy gel. Oddly, a small blue light flashed at the bottom of the two plastic penises.

“Oh, my god. Ooh!” The Pussycat bit her lower lip as the two dildos were slowly worked inside her. Her pussy easily accommodated the front organ, but the rear one felt huge as it pushed out the walls of her rear cavity. She felt thoroughly stuffed when Trixtress shoved them to their full length and fastened the thong’s clasps to prevent the twin shafts slipping out. Stuffed, but unbelievably turned on. The damsel closed her eyes and clenched her pelvic muscles. Dear lord, how could such perversion feel so good?

“Don’t fret, Nightengale. I haven’t forgotten about you.” Trixtress gave the Pussycat an affectionate pat on the head and then left her to become more familiar with her two new friends.

In her contorted position, Nightengale saw nothing until two shining legs appeared, upside down, in her vision. “You can forget about prison,” she growled, “When I get out of this you’ll be heading straight to the hospital.”

Trixtress laughed, “It’s defiance like that which makes breaking heroines so much fun. I remember how much you enjoyed the nipple clamps, so I know you’ll get a kick out of these.”

She held out a pair of objects that resembled little suction cups, about an inch in diameter and topped by small plastic casings. Trixtress pressed one against each of Nightengale’s nipples, pushing down and twisting. The pads somehow sealed themselves to the full breasts. Nightengale had been anxiously holding her breath, but now exhaled with surprised relief. Whatever these were, they didn’t feel anywhere near as bad as those nasty clamps. She couldn’t see the lights that pulsed on top of the casings.

“And now,” announced the villainess, grinning in eager anticipation, “Something that you can enjoy together. I think you may recognise this little treat, Nightengale, although I’ve made a few modifications of my own.”

The ‘treat’ in question was a broad panel gag of supple black leather. A fat, rubber cock inside the panel was crammed into the Pussycat’s mouth and the gag buckled securely at the nape of her neck. The phallus tasted disgusting inside the captive’s mouth. It trapped her tongue and pushed her jaws open. Any protests were muffled by the horrid object, only a series of mumbling moans revealing the Pussycat’s continuing resistance. She now had three hard male organs wedged inside her soft female orifices.

Soon she wouldn’t be the only one impaled on a plastic penis. The outer side of the gag had its own larger dildo. Trixtress patiently adjusted and retensioned the web of ropes so that the sexual implement nudged against Nightengale’s vaginal entrance. Nightengale could do nothing to protect herself. Pussycat couldn’t turn her head away and wriggling only emphasised the erotic sensations in her own cunt and backside. The laughing villainess pulled the stools together until the Pussycat’s face disappeared between Nightengale’s thighs and the dildo plunged deep inside. Only the Pussycat’s delightful kitten-ears could be seen above the other woman’s powerful upper legs.

“That’s ... that’s disgusting. You’re sick.” Adonis flexed in his bonds, appalled at this depraved treatment of the woman he loved and her brave companion.

“Really?” Trixtress slipped a hand inside Adonis’ pants where her searching fingers sought out the bulge of his growing erection, “You seem to be gaining some enjoyment from their peril. Or is this just for me?”

Laughing louder as the hero blushed in shame, she lifted a small box. A single red button was set on its surface with a tiny antennae pointing towards the imprisoned girls, “Let’s really get this party started.”

A sequence of events were set in motion when Trixtress pressed the button of the small remote control. Nightengale bucked in sudden agony. The devices on her nipples had just delivered joint electric shocks to her breasts. It felt like a thousand tiny needles were stabbing into her body. Mercifully, the shock didn’t last long, but she was left shaking within her bonds.

The receivers in the Pussycat’s crotch strap had also heard the signal. Each of the dildos sprang into life. They delivered two electric jabs of their own, straight into her little kitty and tail hole, then continued to buzz and vibrate. The Pussycat gave a gagged scream at the initial pain and then groaned at the double stimulation of her sex.

The Pussycat couldn’t stop her reactions. The jolts of electricity had tensed every muscle in her body. Her slender neck had flexed, pushing the dildo further into Nightengale’s feminine recess. As the Pussycat writhed in time to the pleasure rippling from her crotch, she ground her face into Nightengale’s thighs, unwittingly and involuntarily fucking her helpless colleague.

Nightengale was equally helpless to prevent her body’s instinctive responses. Her nipples felt on fire, her back was bowed excruciatingly, but it was the invasion of her pussy which seized her mind. She moaned wordlessly and tried to push back, her thighs gripping Pussycat’s head and holding it in place. The inner muscles of Nightengale’s vagina contracted as they bore down on the hard, penetrating shaft.

The Pink Pussycat almost choked in astonishment when cold, salty semen squirted into her mouth. The rubber cock of the gag was filled with sperm! Nightengale’s convulsions were squeezing the creamy liquid out through a tiny opening at the end of the gag. Pussycat dreaded to think how and where Trixtress had filled the gag. For now she was kept busy trying to swallow the cum, feeling it slide down her throat. Some of the semen was dripping past her gag, joining the Pussycat’s saliva in a messy pool that dribbled down her chin and onto the floor.

Trixtress was laughing manically and clapping her hands in delight. Her ingenious feedback system was working perfectly. With each swallow, the Pussycat’s head twitched and fucked Nightengale a little more. Nightengale could only respond in kind, her cunt heaving and squeezing more cum into the Pussycat’s stuffed mouth. It was all too wonderful.

She pointed the remote and pushed its button a second time. The heroines screamed as another charge of electricity pulsed through tits, arse and cunt. They were working themselves furiously now. Nightengale’s screams were as much lust as loathing, her naked body glistening with perspiration. The Pussycat’s sensual moans could hardly be heard, muffled by the gag and the embrace of Nightengale’s thighs. Both girls were pulling on their bonds, the strong, unyielding ropes staying firm and biting into wrists and ankles. The ropes plaited through their long hair caused each captive’s eyes to water as reflexive head motions tugged the braided locks to their roots.

“I told you that we could all have fun together. Which of them will orgasm first? I’ll bet it’s that randy little slut of a Pussycat. What do you think, honey?” Her eyes still fixed on the writhing heroines, Trixtress stroked Adonis’ rock hard penis. She dropped to her knees before him and pulled down his pants, releasing his proud manhood. She licked her lips and eyed him hungrily, “I know they have a tremendous head start, but let’s race them. I’m certain that a red-blooded boy like you will enjoy this. I’ll even give you a special reward if you climax before they do.”

Adonis groaned as sweet lips engulfed his throbbing cock. They could all be in for a very long night. How would the captives ever get free? Would anybody come to their rescue? At this moment, it seemed unlikely.





Chapter Three

Kitten was being extremely naughty. She knew that she really shouldn’t be here, but she just couldn’t help herself. After helping the Pink Pussycat to arrange a romantic tryst with Adonis, the youthful sidekick was dying to find out how things had worked out. It had been all that she could think about during her solo patrol through the safer parts of Metrobay. She had promised herself one quick peek before heading home to bed, hoping for a pleasant image to fuel her dreams.

The girl sighed as she crept through the grounds surrounding MAIDEN HQ. Maybe one day she would nab a handsome hunk of her own. Curling up beside a plump pillow could get very lonely. Living a duel life as a masked crime-fighter didn’t exactly make dating easy. She longed for a strong man who would keep her warm at night and send her to sleep with a smile on her face.

She had reached the entrance to the new headquarters. Strange. The sliding glass door wasn’t fully closed, the green light on the electronic lock indicating that anybody could step through. Obviously Pussycat had more important things on her mind, but leaving the door open was still pretty careless. Kitten entered, but then paused in the inner hallway. Nearly all of the lights were out and the building was unusually silent. Something didn’t feel right about this.

Kitten was beginning to feel nervous. She tip-toed to the stairs leading to the upper level housing the sleeping quarters, “Pussycat? Adonis? Is anybody there?”

Nobody answered her timid calls, but her sharp ears did pick up on something. It was only faint, but it had sounded like an attempt to smoother a sneeze and it had come from a dim corner on ground level. Kitten came back down the stairs, slipping a small pen-torch from her belt. The torch sent out a thin beam of light as the plucky sidekick edged her way towards the source of the sound.

“I know someone is there. Come out and show yourself.”

A female voice tutted in irritation, “So much for surprise. Get her, boys!”

Four burly figures surged from the darkness, closing on Kitten from all sides. Although not caught completely flat-footed, the young girl had only a moment to prepare herself. She kicked out with one tan, high-heeled boot, catching the nearest attacker square in the jaw. He tumbled backwards, but there were still three more to worry about.

Kitten ducked as arms swung out in an attempt to grab her from behind. Keeping low, she darted to the side, nimbly evading another flailing limb. She spun and drove her fists into the assailant’s kidneys. The man bellowed in anger, but didn’t drop. The brute drove his elbow back and caught Kitten with a blow to her own stomach.

Staggering in pain, Kitten wrapped an arm around her leopard-print top. That had hurt. She had no time for further self-pity. Two of the thugs had regrouped and were trying to flank her in a pincer movement. Her fist flashed out, breaking the first man’s nose, but she had been out-manoeuvred. Before she could throw a follow-up punch, the second man’s meaty fist had grabbed her long, auburn ponytail, almost dislodging the cute kitten-ears of her costume. He yanked cruelly and Kitten cried with pain as she was pulled off-balance, nearly tripping on her long, curling tail.

“Pin her to the ground. This kitty’s going nowhere.”

The unseen female coordinating the attack called out her orders. Kitten’s hands scrabbled to break the fierce grip on her hair. Her boots kicked out to keep the other goons at a distance, but it was no use. Their hands were everywhere now; restraining her struggling limbs, mauling at her ample cleavage and slapping her masked face. Overwhelmed by their superior numbers and greater strength, the young heroine was thrown to the ground and held immobile. Her arms and legs were spread-eagled by the four leering brutes.

“Isn’t it very late for little girls to be out of their beds?” The black-haired villainess wearing a fishnet outfit stepped into sight now that the fighting was over.

“I’m no ‘little girl’,” Kitten snarled up at Madame Mynx. “Let me go and I’ll show you what I can do in a fair fight.”

“No, I really do think that it’s past your bedtime. Nighty-night, little Kitten.” Mynx pressed a soft cloth over the defeated sidekick’s nose and mouth. Kitten’s eyes went wide behind her soft, brown mask. She shouted in anger and renewed her thrashing attempts at escape. Resisting only meant that the girl inhaled more of the cloth’s sleep-inducing fumes. Her limbs grew still, her eyelids fluttered closed, her breathing slowed and she slipped into a deep, chemical slumber.

“Tie her up, men,” commanded Mynx. “She’ll just have to stay here. It’s time we got back to the hideout.”



Shortly later, Madame Mynx was walking into the disused warehouse that served as her temporary base of operations. It had been a very busy night and she was looking forward to the chance to relax. What could be better than finishing the day by indulging in carnal pleasures with a captured heroine to act as her slutty sex slave? Leaving her minions to play cards in the outer office, she headed straight through to the main cavernous store room.

Mynx stopped dead in her tracks. It took a lot to shock the hardened villainess, but the scene before her managed to achieve that feat. It looked as if she had walked into a bondage orgy from some perverted version of hell.

The two heroines that had been captured earlier, Pink Pussycat and Nightengale, were stripped almost naked and tied into a harness of tight ropes. Their wrists were bound and ropes spread their legs wide open. Pink Pussycat was kneeling in front of Nightengale. It was difficult to see clearly, but it looked like a dildo had been strapped to the Pussycat’s face and that she was using it to fuck the other woman. A damp patch of drool, sperm and other juices made it clear that they had been going at this for a while. Both heroines were bathed in sweat and moaning in equal measure. The thin crotch strap of a leather bikini bottom plunged between the Pussycat’s rounded butt cheeks. Judging by the way her hips were gyrating, Mynx could take a guess at what was held inside the groaning girl.

The instigator of their ordeal was engaged in her own sexual endeavours. Mynx’s partner in crime, the blonde villainess known as Trixtress, was on her knees before the third captive. Trixtress had her mouth around Adonis’ large cock and was working vigorously with her lips and tongue. Her fingers clawed into the hero’s firm ass, keeping his penis deep in her throat.

“What the fuck is going on?” Madame Mynx was furious. How dare Trixtress do this? She had clearly forgotten her junior position in this partnership.

Trixtress raised her head in surprise, “Mynx! You’re back.”

It was an unfortunately timed interruption. Adonis gave a deep growl and his stiff erection jerked in front of him. A fountain of sperm shot out, showering Trixtress’ face and bright jacket with a torrent of hot semen. For a moment the woman’s face was frozen in shock, but then she laughed and greedily licked the cum coating her lips.

Her lack of contrition infuriated Mynx even further, “You stupid cow. Nightengale was yours to deal with as you pleased, but I sent orders that Pink Pussycat and Adonis were to be left unharmed until my return.”

“Oh, do shut up.” Trixtress stood and wiped herself clean. “I’m sure that the girls have plenty of energy left for whatever you have planned.”

“That’s not the point. You disobeyed my commands. I’m beginning to regret allowing you to serve in my operation.”

“Be careful how you speak to me, bitch.” Trixtress was now angry too. She drew a sharp dagger and pointed it at Mynx. “I’m not one of your underlings. Just let me know if you want to cut the ties of our partnership.”

Threatening Madame Mynx was a mistake. She was considered the most dangerous criminal in Metrobay and with good reason. She might prefer letting others do her dirty work, but she could handle herself when necessary. With a snarl of rage, she pounced on her rival. Mynx’s hands locked on the wrist of Trixtress’ knife hand. She twisted the arm and dug her fingers into certain pressure points. Trixtress cried out and the knife clattered onto the stone floor.

Mynx wasn’t finished. She drew back her hand and slapped the other villainess across the face, raising an angry red mark. Trixtress wasn’t about to mildly accept this punishmen

Oops, looks like the end got snipped above.


Mynx wasn’t finished. She drew back her hand and slapped the other villainess across the face, raising an angry red mark. Trixtress wasn’t about to mildly accept this punishment. She raised her arms to block the next blow and then grabbed a handful of Mynx’s dark hair. The two dominant women went spinning across the room, locked in a deadly wrestling match.

Adonis watched the combatants as they crashed into a wall and continued to pound on one another. He looked down. The knife had fallen close to his feet. With his back tied to a wooden post, there was no way that he could bend to pick it up, but maybe he wouldn’t have to. He stretched out his foot and kicked the blade, sending it skidding across the floor. His kick was perfectly weighted. The knife came to rest inches from where Nightengale’s bound wrists were tied to an iron ring set into the floor.

The captive heroine was in the middle of her third earth-shaking orgasm. She had almost forgotten whether she was fighting to resist the abuse or straining to encourage the action between her legs. The blood rushing to her head and the fatigue from her exertions had left her dizzy and weak. She had to blink twice before recognising the knife when it came into view. Panting heavily, the heroine reached her fingers towards the weapon, ignoring the raw pain from the tight ropes around her wrists. The blade was almost beyond reach, but her straining fingers brushed against the handle and somehow managed to pull it into her palm. The hope of escape brought fresh strength. Nightengale raised the sharp edge and began the slow process of sawing her bonds.

Madame Mynx and Trixtress were both bloodied and bruised. They spat venomous curses and insults while striking with punches, kicks, slaps and bites. It was a closely matched contest, but Mynx had the upper hand. The two women were so pre-occupied that they didn’t notice their captives making an escape. Nightengale had cut herself free and carefully extricated herself from the long dildo connecting her to the Pink Pussycat. She quickly began slicing the Pussycat’s ropes, the pair moving cautiously to avoid alerting the battling criminals.

The Pussycat released herself from the double penetration of the leather thong. She was about to hurl the garment away, but then hesitated. She couldn’t deny the toy’s beneficial uses. Maybe she would hang onto it a while longer; strictly for private, personal use.

Soon Adonis had also been cut loose. The freed trio did not project their usual imposing appearances. Each of them were in varying states of undress. Cold sperm stained the Pussycat’s chin, slick juices slid down Nightengale’s legs and Adonis’ cock hung limp after his unwanted blow job. Even so, all three moved across the warehouse and stood confidently with arms folded across their chests.

“Mynx. Trixtress. Playtime’s over. Surrender and this doesn’t have to hurt too much.”

The villainesses paused in mid-combat, turning at the sound of Pussycat’s authoritative challenge. They stopped fighting each other and hesitantly turned to face the crime-fighters.

“How did you get free?” gasped an astounded Trixtress.

“Unbelievable,” muttered Madame Mynx. “I ask you to keep them secure and you can’t even do that right.”

“Bitch!”

Trixtress threw herself at Mynx and renewed their struggle. Nightengale rolled her eyes. The thought of simply leaving them to it was very tempting, but a heroine was expected to uphold higher standards. Adonis and the two courageous women moved in to separate and subdue their former captors. The villainesses were already battered and weary. The fight was over quickly.

Pussycat smiled. Victory could taste very sweet sometimes. “Adonis, can you deal with the thugs outside? Nightengale, fetch something to tie up these crooks. We’ll have them behind bars within the hour.”

“Wait,” interjected Nightengale. “Trixtress said something about MAIDEN HQ. Mynx, what were you up to back there?”

Madame Mynx sneered, “I might as well tell you. It’s too late for you to interfere with our house warming present. Your mayor’s wonderful new building will soon lie in rubble. Oh, by the way, we captured the Pussycat’s pretty little sidekick. When our bombs detonate, Kitten will have a front row seat.”

The Pink Pussycat looked across to Adonis in horror. Kitten was in grave danger. They had to act quickly. Clearly this night’s adventures were not over yet.





Epilogue

Six thirty-nine. Six thirty-eight. Kitten blearily opened her eyes and wondered why the red numbers on her alarm clock's digital display were counting backwards. She closed her eyes again, too sleepy to care. If it meant a little longer in bed then so much the better.

Five fifty-four. Five fifty-three. It was no use, she couldn't get back to sleep. Her bed felt cold and hard. Why was she so tired anyway? She remembered patrolling the city and then heading back to spy on the Pink Pussycat's date with Adonis. She had entered MAIDEN HQ and then ...

Oh, shit! Kitten's eyes flew open. She made an attempt to sit up and discovered that she was lying on her stomach and unable to move. Her wrists were bound behind her back. Her legs were tied at knees and ankles then bent back and linked to her wrists. The young girl struggled against the tight hogtie, biting down on the thick cloth that cleaved and gagged her lips.

Five twenty-eight. Five twenty-seven. This wasn't her bedroom. Kitten realised that she was tied in the dark basement of MAIDEN HQ. And if that wasn't her alarm clock ...

Oh, god. She was lying beside a bomb! Kitten thrashed on the floor, screaming in her panic, but unable to get free. She kicked her legs, flexed her wrists and pulled with her arms. It was useless. The sidekick's screams turned to frightened sobs. She had to get loose. She didn't want to die here.

Five oh-one. Five oh-oh. Four fifty-nine. The digital timer continued its relentless countdown. In less than five minutes, the helpless Kitten would run out of time. Her fate seemed inevitable ...



Will Kitten manage to get free?
Will the Pink Pussycat dash to the rescue?
Find out later this year as the story continues in 'Pink Pussycat - Strange Allies'



Also by the author,
Supergirl - Against Her Will
(http://www.superheroinecentral.com/~wiz ... a_Will.htm)

Swashbuckling Bound
(http://www.homestead.com/jebsadventureb ... index.html)

Swashbuckling Bound 2: The Pirate and the Highwaywoman
(http://www.homestead.com/jebsadventureb ... shII1.html)

Hey Stephen, that's wickedly fantastic!

I really like your vivid descriptions.

It's kind of eerie how well you portray the characters as well - spot on.

Anxious to read the next episode.

Thanks for adding this story!

Fin

Wow.. that was great! How long did it take you to write that?

Thanks. It probably took about a week and a half to actually write it, type it and edit it in my spare time, although I had been pondering the ideas and descriptions for a while before that.

Stephen

awesome work! thank you for sharing it here!